The Unexpected Continuation of Lesser Wolves
by Guns and Drums
Summary: A dumping ground for extras and outtakes from my various fics. This is for fun stuff to know, or maybe some future other POVs that just don't fit nowheres else in the story. [ETA: Title changed, given that this is quickly becoming the airline barf bag for all my insane TANEC spin offs. I regret nothing].
1. The Remedial Chemistry Behind Healing

**So here is the dealio on Bree's power. Because it's hard to fully explain it in-text without it feeling like information dumping. I think I've got it mostly out there, but this is just a nice concise rundown in case you were a bit foggy on the concept.

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Bree is a healer. She can heal because – as a human – her desire was to just _fix_ everything, to protect and lay low. She wanted everything to be okay and nice and neat and patched up. She wanted to be low on the radar. So that translates to her being able to fix everything as an immortal. The goal is to remain unseen and innocuous.

Within the bounds of her own body she can heal the physical as well as the mental. It's a subconscious thing and so she almost heals herself automatically. This is why her transition to animal blood is slightly smoother than others. Part of the thirst is mental, part is physical (this is _my _interpretation, here) so she's able to help herself out a lot without even meaning to.

After prolonged encounters with humans, Bree's thirst begins to fight an encroaching migraine. Her healing juices are kicked into overdrive as they try and quell the fire in her throat (and mind). But the thirst is powerful so you have this inner battle of sorts playing inside Bree's chemical makeup. This is why – after meeting Bella – Bree has a headache. Her power is battling her thirst and that's the result.

It takes a powerful surge of emotion for Bree to push that healing outside her own body. When Edward sort of flipped out after she told the Cullens she'd been a junkie it just pushed her over the edge. She was already nervous, that coupled with her newborn raging emotions and Edward's jibe was just the final straw. She was able to reassemble that paperweight.

She likes to use positive emotion to project her power because how much sense does it make to heal people with overwhelming emotions of anger, sadness or regret? Plus, happy emotions give more weight to her power. Positive emotions fuel the positive acting power.

Outside of herself, Bree cannot heal the mental – only the physical. Healing mental wounds is beyond her capacity. It just requires too much; she'd just end up becoming a vegetable, pretty much. Her power is also exponentially less potent. She can only force a certain percentage of it onto the subject of her healing.

She can fix small, simple things – like pencils – with ease. Because the chemistry involved in a small, lifeless object is relatively simple. Living things are more complex and require greater reserves of her energy. So she can fix a boulder in an instant but a flower or a finger is a lot harder because it is more elementally complex.

This is how she tries to help Jasper. She hopes the small amount of healing juices she can give him will quench some of the physical reactions in his system. Her reasoning is that if isn't actually as thirsty he'll calm down and some of the anxiety will go away. Almost like a domino effect. She wants it to work as a confidence booster – she thinks that's half his problem. If he thinks he's all right then he won't be so anxious and he'll have more of the 'I can do this' mentality. She thinks it's better than having Alice hover over his future and Edward his mind, just watching and waiting for him to snap. It's about striving for the good, not anticipating the bad.

When under extreme mental or physical duress, Bree's power concentrates within her and she won't be able to project it out. Her body will be trying to maintain itself and keep her from dying or having a complete meltdown so she won't be able to heal anything else. Even the elementally simple.

The wolfpack/Bree smell thing. That's tied in here too. Because her body's always trying to protect itself she has this natural force field. Sort of like other vampires have physical/mental shields (i.e.: Bella) Bree has a chemical shield. Her scent would also be hard to pick up or distinguish by other vampires. Trackers and those like Demetri would simply have to work a bit harder to find her, but a 'normal' vampire could cross her scent and never realize it.

Because the wolves and vampires are natural enemies her body cloaks itself and they could – conceivably – never smell her. She just smells sweet to them and out in the woods of Washington it wouldn't be anything that would stand out from other smells in the woods.

Conversely, Bree wouldn't really be able to discern the pack either. Her senses were extremely heightened when she first met the Cullens, so Jacob smelled a bit repulsive. That and she'd never met a wolf before. But – like the wolves – if she was on a jaunt through the woods she wouldn't be able to pick them out.

After time being in close contact they could learn each others smell. So if the pack and Bree spent a lot of time together it would become easier and easier for them to pick each other's smell out.

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**I think that just about covers it. If you have any questions in regards to Bree's power feel free to let me know in a PM or Review. I'll get back to you ASAP.**


	2. TR 24 JPOV

The day she came home, I told her I had to go back home for a while. This wasn't strictly true but I needed to get away before I did something stupid. She'd left. Was gone to the other side of the fucking world indefinitely. My little lady. My friend. It was indescribable having someone who was so separate from the shit I had to deal with on a regular basis. I saw her and nothing from my fucked up past flashed into my mind. She had no preconceived judgments of me. She was like a separate universe and talking to her always felt that way. It would be like I'd pressed pause on the real world and could go to her with anything. It didn't matter what either - she was strong enough both mentally and physically to handle anything I came to her with. She didn't do that girly bullshit, she took it all. Weird bloodsucker and werewolf stories and all.

That day I watched her in the clearing standing with the Cullens was so warped to me. She stood with them as family and I realized that Bree wasn't some otherworldly ghost. She wasn't a separate universe. The Cullens were her family. And that just blew my fucking mind. And in some part of hermind she thought a sacrifice would be good addition to the meeting's agenda. Fan-fucking-tastic. We weren't always logical thinkers, apparently. I watched her pull herself up to her full five foot height, throw her shoulders back and face down the assholes that had only just spared her life less than a year ago. The prospect of them taking her or killing her ripped my mind in two.

It caused me physical pain. I felt sick and this red-hot heat coursed up my spine and filled my head, clouding my vision. And before I knew it, instinct had taken over. Quil and Leah had to hold me back and prevent me from doing something that would've gotten me killed. It felt like I was a newb all over again, the whole bursting-into-your-wolf-when-you-couldn't-rein-in-your-anger thing? Yeah, that shit was back. And feeling like you're going to burst into a wolf when you are already said wolf is one fucked up experience, let me tell you.

Did I want them to sell Bella down the river? Uh, no. My reaction probably would've been much the same but I could only guess at that. Because that never happened. But there was no reason the whole situation couldn't have been resolved in a different way. A way that didn't involve anyone leaving. A way that didn't involve her leaving. I realize it was slightly selfish to not remember the eight - okay seven, I was still thinking about Bella, those were the only two I could fit in my head at once - other people in the field but I couldn't bring myself to care. Why couldn't we just kill the sickening manners bullshit and have at it? I mean those three up front looked like dandelion puffs - I'm surprised they could even walk.

Between the Cullens and the pack, we could've polished them off. But Carlisle had this whole 'pacifism' thing going. Sam had this unyielding respect for it, and I guess I did too - I get it, I'm not a total Neanderthal - but I'm convinced that there are times when peaceful protest is not the best right goddamn now! Instead of doing something to prevent the Italian douche bags from abducting a family member we're just gonna wave 'bye? That might've also been another reason why Leah and Quil had to hold me back. I wasn't in a Pacifist mood.

Bree looked back briefly, probably hearing the scuffling noises from my fucking mental warfare and in that moment I could see her crimson eyes were dead. The life had left them. Her eyes were slowly fading to their vegetarian gold but I could always read her that way. Her eyes were highly telling and they gave her away all the time. They'd light up when she had an idea or thought of something witty to say. They'd almost glow whenever she was happy. But now her eyes were a flat red - there was no emotion there at all. I'd rarely ever seen that; it was a sign that she'd shut down. Whether she didn't want to talk about something or she was bottling something up. She was hiding and I didn't like that shit.

I can't honestly say I knew a lot of what happened over the next three months. I know I was angry and miserable and pretty much a piece of shit the whole time. I don't know how everyone lived with me. Billy just sort of co-existed, never really saying anything to me unless it was strictly necessary. He fed me, I think. Not that I was home much; I ran double shifts sometimes just for something to do. I mixed up my nights and days and didn't really give two shits about time or the calendar. Quil and Embry gently reminded me that I had to go to class every now and then and I did. It was all the teachers could do to get some kids in the classroom, they weren't about to notice a kid that missed one class per week. Played right and I only ended up going about half time. They'd drag my sorry ass to English 11 or US History or whatever the hell other classes we had. I seriously had no idea.

The packs had begun a slow and steady separation. Sam and I really couldn't be in the same pack anymore. It was too bad, because I really didn't have any animosity towards him - outside of his being a prick about seeing the Cullens thing. Granted, Bella was due to change soon and Bree was gone. I didn't really have a lot of desire to visit them anymore. But the natural splitting process had already begun so we kept with it. The one pack was huge anyways. From a logistical standpoint it just made sense to split. It didn't really change much. We still all ran patrols together. Sam and I could still hear each other when shifted - some kind of covert alpha communique gift or whatever. In the end we just didn't all congregate at Sam and Emily's anymore (which I'm sure she was probably grateful for). Now it was Emily's and my house. I had a lot less food, though. And that complaint did not go unheard, believe me.

Leah fell into place as my natural beta. She did a good job, but she was just always on freakin' edge. I don't know how she slept at night being so keyed up. Seth swore she just stayed up all night, plotting all our deaths. I beg to differ. If she kills us all, who's she going to bitch at all the time? Anyways, she stopped bitching at me about four weeks into my rage/depression/emo stage whatever the hell you want to call it. I watched her; she just swallowed her comments down and pursed her lips. Sometimes I swear I saw pity in her eyes and I couldn't take that shit. I didn't need pity. I just wanted my little lady back.

I didn't talk to the Cullens except for the weeks surrounding Bella's change. I still thought her choice was fucked up but she reminded me that the other part of the Volturi's deal was that her change go according to schedule. Otherwise we definitely would not ever see Bree again, because the Italian bloodsuckers would use her for leverage. If everything went smoothly then she might come back... eventually.

At this point I didn't even know what to say or do. It wasn't my decision and either way, I lost someone I truly cared about. I'm not proud to say I ran away from the problem, but I did. I'm still a kid. I'm seven-freaking-teen. Has anyone stopped to think that they might be thrusting a little too much shit on the me - or the Quileute boys in general? I'm pretty much being forced to pick whose life is worth more. I'm sure most seventeen year-old guys are just dealing with bitchy parents, getting laid and the best way to get back in the house at 3AM when you're completely fucking wasted. That's all I wanted to worry about. Was that so much to ask?

At any rate, I grew a pair and continued down the maturity path to hell. I was able to spend a lot of time with Bella preceding her transformation. She was nervous but excited. I kind of just wanted to be next to my friend for as long as I could while her smell didn't make me want to heave. But all she wanted to talk about was the black event. I'm sorry but I have little desire to discuss Bella's death - in excruciating detail - with her. I mean she was planning it and she knew who was going to do it for her and everything. Am I the only person who saw this as being more than slightly fucking deranged?

I suppose the tables had been turned. It wasn't long ago where I would sit and talk and Bella would stare vacantly back at me. Now she talked and I stared vacantly back. She dealt quite well with my vacuous personality; I liked to hope I did an okay job with her. "Jake?" she asked one day, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Oh," smooth, you retard. "No, sorry. I'm a little tired. One more time?"

She just gave me that knowing-Bella look, "You've been like this for months Jacob."

"What?" I asked.

"A sorry lump," she said matter-of-factly. Don't sugarcoat it for me, Bells.

"It's a phase. I'm a growing a teenage boy. It happens."

"You," she said with a dry laugh, "are pretty much fully grown, I would like to hope." She was quiet and just kind of stared at me for a while. Except it was like she was boring into my soul. "You miss her, too?"

It was then that I realized how much I'd drifted from Bella. We used to be like this. But... I don't know. The Cullens coming back drove a serious wedge between us. She would always be my friend but there was this impasse that we'd never be able to get over. Their coming back from god knows where just kind of put it all into perspective for me. Bella loved me, she was not in love with me. I still had no idea what the hell she was talking about. But anyways... I realized how much I'd drifted from Bella because she hadn't noticed how much time Bree and I had spent together. Because Bella and I didn't really spend a lot of time together anymore.

When she finally came back, I had no idea what to do. There was so much bulldozing its way through my brain that I just had no idea what to say or do. Was I even forming coherent sentences? I know what I wanted to do. I wanted to pull her into the biggest, longest hug ever and tell her to never leave again. Oh right, I already did that.

I knew she was home and she told me she wasn't going anywhere. So I figured it was safe to leave for a while where I could sort my shit out without looking like a complete psycho. So, I just left her in her yard with Alice and Jasper, like the wuss that I am.

Hours later I still hadn't had an epiphany as I walked through the woods toward the Cullen property. I didn't know what the hell to do. What was worse, was I didn't know what I was feeling. It was so fucked up. If I thought back on our past there wasn't much denying that she was my friend - despite how cornball that shit sounds. But when I saw her in that airport, she wasn't my friend anymore. I didn't know what she was anymore. And I had no idea what to do about it.

She'd seemed so mentally exhausted. She looked smaller and frailer than usual - though I knew that wasn't really possible. She looked lost. Her eyes flickered seeing Jasper, Alice and I in the airport but they still held that dead stare about them. I had no idea what was happening inside her mind.

All this was just piling up in my head and I still couldn't sort through it. I took a deep breath, running my hands over my face and stared into the night sky. I decided I'd put it all aside because it didn't matter right now. Whatever was going through my little lady's head was probably tenfold compared to mine. I needed to stop being such fucking sissy about this. She didn't need all this confusion. She would need a friend too. She'd been my friend and now it was time to return the favor.

If anything about her ideas had changed while she was gone, I'd let her bring it up first. I'd just take things as they came and let shit happen.

As I settled on this definitive, I heard the near silent kitchen door wave open and then quietly click closed. I watched my little lady in her bare feet traipse quietly across the lawn before folding her legs beneath her and looking up to the sky. She would.

I took a deep breath and came out of the woods. She was initially shocked - obviously not planning on company - but her face broke into a small smile that didn't quite reach her desolate eyes. I took a seat next to her and she told me about her stargazing. We were quiet for a while before I looked back towards her upturned cheek. The way the moonlight hit her face and shined off her skin, she looked like she was made of glass. She peeked down catching me staring. "I really missed you, Bree," I told her honesty.

She smiled a little more real this time. "I got that much from your attacking me at the Sea-Tac," she was quiet for a moment as she chewed the inside of her lip. It was a subconscious thing, I don't think she even noticed. She did it whenever she was thinking over her next words. "I missed you too Jacob. More than I realized."

I clued her into recent pack news. Especially our split. She didn't seem too surprised; she'd probably seen it coming.

She briefly explained her activities in Italy. She told me in such a lifeless manner; her tone held elements of sadness, anger, bitterness and apathy. But mostly my little lady just seemed spent. I don't even know if she realized it, but she was just so far gone.

Those bloodsuckers had trained her up like an instrument of war and I could tell that's where this soulless stare came from. She'd started life out that way and I knew she never wanted to go back - even if it was just practice.

What really turned my stomach - almost made my blood boil - was the condition they'd attached to her freedom. At any moment in time those leeches could call on her for help and she would have to go and fight. No matter what. Even against family.

I could tell she didn't really want to talk more about it because I watched her eyes begin to cloud over. I had watched them brighten infinitesimally throughout our time together and I would do anything to keep the light in her eyes. Anything to keep the clouds away.

I wrapped my arms gently around her small cool waist and pulled her into my lap. "I won't let anyone get you," I told her as I rested my chin lightly on the top of her head. I just wanted her to feel safe - to let her know I wouldn't let anyone touch her. She stiffened slightly with our unusual contact - we'd never really been this close before - but began to relax a moment later. She just sort of melted into me. I felt her back relax into my chest and her little head found its home on my shoulder. Tendrils of her mahogany hair would get caught in the slight breeze tickling my face and neck. That was about the most amazing feeling ever, I just decided.

She just sat there in my lap, unmoving. It was nice; her skin was something I'd gotten used to. I had to admit that it was really weird in the beginning but she didn't have that horrendous smell the rest of her family did. I don't know if it was part of her power - like Carlisle had suggested - or if it was just her personally. I took a deep breath and my nose was filled with her scent. She smelled sweet - like flowers - and sunshine. The kind of sunshine you get after it's rained for a long time. Her scent was one of those rare ones that when you breathe you can feel it in every part of your face. My nose, eyes, ears and throat were just filled with flowers and sunshine. And I just breathed it in.


	3. TR 25 JPOV

My name is Jacob Black, and I was the victim of an attack.

Some things in life just take you really off guard. You're never expecting it. That seems to be the fucking theme of my life. But this was a pleasant surprise. To say the least.

You know, it's strange because Bree was not someone who would talk about what she was feeling. I didn't want to be her shrink or some shit, but she would never say anything when she was sad or angry or anything. You kinda just had to figure that shit out with her. I thought it was a little odd, because she never had a problem talking about anything else. She'd been through a lot and to this day her little mouth didn't mind blurting out anything about anybody. She just hit this wall when it came to emotions, I guess.

So, it didn't take a psych degree for me to figure out that Bree was just _so far gone._ And there was that part of her guard that she never let down, which is why I don't think she could begin to help herself. In order fix whatever was happening inside her she would have to look away from the outside for a while. She wouldn't be able to protect herself. And that scared her.

I just wanted her to feel safe. I wanted her to know that we had this weird-in-between-but-not-friends thing going on and that I wouldn't let anyone hurt her. I wanted her to feel like she could do whatever she wanted without the fear of letting her guard down.

I guess that's where my weird-ass hug came from. But, hey, it worked. A lot of that tension seemed to just ooze out of her. She wasn't so keyed up. She calmed down and was just laying down watching the stars. But then she was just staring at me. Which… is weird? She wiggled around so she could watch my face. And she'd trapped her full lower lip in between her teeth. She was thinking over her next words. I didn't know if this was good or bad.

"Are you okay?" I asked her. And she just sucked that lip further into her small mouth. And I couldn't take my eyes off her mouth. I couldn't help it. I could see the wet glisten and the pull of her skin as her white teeth tugged her curved lip against her pink tongue. Then before I could take myself out of my daze, those lips were on me. She put her lips on my lips and _that _took me a few more minutes to realize that she was kissing me.

She all but jumped on me. Out of absolutely nowhere she had lunged at me and pressed her smooth, full lips to my own. She sucked my lower lip between hers and her top lip slid between my own. This was her letting that last bit of her guard down. That small part she could never bring herself to let go of, for fear of being hurt. This was it.

I was worried I'd upset or scare her but she was the one to initiate all of this. And can I just say: I was not opposed. At all. I didn't know what was going on in my head when it came to Bree. It was the whole reason I'd left her alone today. She'd obviously had the same issue but was a lot more quick to figure it out. She liked me on more than a friendship basis. I liked _her_ on more than friendship basis. Maybe I had known it, had been acting on this knowledge but hadn't allowed my brain to realize it.

What the fuck was wrong with me? After my brain's speed trip through recent history I came back to the present to realize: she was fucking kissing me. Which I enjoyed a hell of a lot more than was probably necessary. She was _laying_ on top of me. Her slender arms wrapped around my neck, her chest pressed right to mine, her nose against my cheek and her pouty lip thrust between mine.

I sat up taking her tiny face in my hands. I could feel the coolness of her skin melt on contact with the heat of my hands. I was hotter than she was cold. I slowly drew a hand to her waist, trying to keep her as close to me as I could. Her taste was sweet and cool. My rough lips massaged over hers, smooth as silk. She was all smooth hair, soft touches, sweet smells and honey tastes. She was tiny but it was like she was just all around me.

I felt her small able fingers trace down the back of my neck. Her gentle contact and the discovery of a soft spot gave me goosebumps. And that was not very fucking manly. She smiled, knowing full well what she was doing. But the smiling pulled those sexy as hell lips away from me. I reached up, tugging her lower lip back with my thumb. "Not fair," I told her.

I heard her take in a sharp breath and I allowed my thumb to trace its way down her neck and over the gentle bump of her collarbone. I felt her shiver slightly. I opened my mouth only slightly, breathing her in. I traced the crease where her lips met with my tongue. I don't know if you call it sick, masochistic, or just plain old fucked up but the taste of her practically made me hard.

I mean, I know that the whole oral setup is kind of their secret weapon. Her teeth are probably like razors and I knew she was all venom. I had no idea what the hell could possibly happen if it got into my bloodstream. Ever since that day she hauled off and whacked me, she was very careful around me. So it probably would not have been good. I know she didn't like hurting people. My playing it off as not being her fault hadn't really worked. She saw right through me.

So, I _knew _I was really close to some really crazy shit right now, but I did not care. I just wanted more than this cute little closed mouth bullshit.

In response to me, she stood up - never removing her steady kneading lips from my own – and backed up a step. Yeah, so I was a little pushy. I'm sorry. I'm a guy. She started it. Whatever, at any rate, I didn't want her leaving. I reached out towards her hips, hoping to show her that I would _really_ like it if she stayed. She laced her fingers in between my own and backed away further.

Truth be told, I was probably on the verge of doing something really stupid, but she stopped, wound my arms back around her waist and slowly opened that sweet tasting paradise to me. I was fully prepared for her to pull away, so I did my damnedest not to attack her. Her small tongue came out to meet my own, soft at first – testing the waters – before becoming firmer. After a moment, I felt her chin pull back but she kept her grip on me. She'd all but given me the go ahead so I just went with it.

I don't mean to seem like such a dominant bastard – because I'm really not. I just… I don't know. I wanted to kiss her so damn bad. It was initially strange. Bree is not quite an ice cube but I could certainly feel the temperature difference. Like when you eat ice, there's that zip from the cold and that brief cloud of moisture. Well the contact between her cool mouth and my warm one had that initial shock of contact because we were so different.

Her teeth did scare me a little bit, I won't lie. I tried to keep my distance. Her gentle tongue and candy lips were enough to keep me occupied. She was soft and I could smell her sunshine, the soap from a recent shower and the crisp scent of the grass she must've picked to death up until this point. I had no idea of Bree's past experiences – and I really didn't want to know – but she was damn good with that little mouth of hers. However, I couldn't escape the feeling that there was a twinge of sadness in her caress.

She pulled back slightly, giving me a small quick peck before resting her forehead against mine. The girl was pretty intense, and I think she forgot that I was still of an air-breathing species. I took a moment to catch my breath and seeing her big silly grin just made me smile. Because the last time I kissed a girl – regardless my accompanying manipulative behavior – it was a pity kiss. This was just a hell of a lot better.

Then it occurred to me. I'd known Bree for almost a year – minus those five months she was gone – and she was _just_ letting me in on _all this_ now? Some part of my rudimentary male mind insisted that we had wasted a lot time when I could have been kissing her luscious, beautiful self.

I figured leaving her laying on the ground gasping for air was enough payback. If I got her mad she probably wouldn't have ever kissed me again, and we couldn't have that.

It was another small thing about her I could file away. The sunshine smells, the lip biting, and now I knew: she's ticklish.


	4. TR 26 JPOV

I woke up and dragged my exhausted butt out of bed early that morning. I chanced a glance at the alarm clock beside my bed. 7AM. Fantastic. I'd only gone to bed two hours ago. Nights on patrol were never any fun but Claire had a stomach bug and there wasn't a hell of a lot that could remove Quil from her side. So yours truly got double shift.

I took a short cold shower - just long enough to wake me up. Can't say it helped much, the water ended up running off me warmer then when it came from the showerhead, but it was better than nothing.

I grabbed some obscure food out of the fridge - i think it was an apple - and made my way out. One definite drawback to this split was the lack of food. I wasn't over Emily's nearly as often as I used to be - nor were Quil, Embry, Leah or Seth - so there was a lot less food around.

The only thing I got in the way of decent food was from Bree. Bless her heart, my little lady made a mean meal - and she didn't even eat anymore. We spent a lot of time around my place lately and I think she eventually figured out that Billy and I didn't eat much more than fish. When she was here and I was busy with my ridiculous homework or pack business she busied herself in the kitchen. I would watch her. She'd pull open all my cabinets, put her hands on her tiny little hips and twist her mouth in concentration. It was friggin adorable and just made me want to kiss her senseless.

She'd bustle around for about an hour or so and when she inevitably rejoined me she'd have a plate in her hands and a weeks worth of leftovers would be tucked in my fridge. Billy loved it. He couldn't get enough of her to start with, mainly because she had such a dry sense of humor and when he found she could cook? Forget about it. I practically had to bar the door after hours, lest Quil or Embry break in at 2AM for a meal.

I'd be lying if I said she wasn't a bigger distraction in the kitchen than when she was sitting right next to me. I was still living in a relative haze when it came to the little sprite suffering through my work with me.

She was a distraction wherever she was because she was so much more interesting than the task at hand. But she was such a trooper; she sat by me and slogged through just about all of it with me. She even helped me with my atrocious pre-calc work.

It was a Tuesday when I finally finished. I closed my book with a definitive snap, tossed it on the dashboard and leaned back into the seat. "Thank you, Bree," I told her sincerely. There was no need for her to be so tolerant with my mathematical short comings but she was. My little lady didn't want me to fail. "You're really smart."

And this was the first time I noticed her reaction. I don't know if I'd missed prior ones or this was just the first I was seeing of it. Instead of just saying thanks or telling me to do my own damn work next time or any other reasonable reaction, she just slumped in her seat, stared at the dash and nodded. "What?" I asked, intrigued by her reaction, "You are."

Then she just shrugged. Shrugged. I hated shrugging. It was ambiguous and weak. And my little lady was not weak. Something was up.

"Bree you can't possibly not believe me?" I asked her because I don't think she necessarily did. "You have to know you're smart?"

"I guess," she replied as she began to angle herself away from me. I didn't like that shit. She was hiding something from me.

"Bree," I said curiously. I didn't want to upset her even more.

"What?" she snapped. She fucking snapped at me. She began to look panicked, like she didn't know what to do. That about tore my heart out of my chest because she never got that way around me. She would tell me anything that was bothering her and now there was something that she just couldn't get out.

She reached for the door handle. I assumed she was just acting on that fight or flight instinct her anxiety was giving her. But I didn't want her running from anything especially me. I never wanted her to feel like she had to run away from me.

I reached for her arm, hoping some kind of contact would prevent her from bolting. "Bree," I said her name softer and quieter this time. She released the handle with a quiet click and turned slowly back to me.

I gently took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead lightly. I wanted her to know that I cared about her and that I wanted her honesty. "Bree," I said evenly preparing for the backlash, "you are smart."

"Okay," she yelled at me, "I get it!"

Except I really don't think she did. I had no idea what would cause this type of reaction. A simple compliment had sent her completely over the edge. But something told me it wasn't because she didn't think she was smart. If she didn't, she wouldn't even have tried helping me. No, she knew she was smart. She just... She just couldn't hear it from other people. It wasn't the fact, it was the compliment that threw her.

"No." I told her firmly, "you are smart."

"All right already, I—"

Before she could continue I interrupted her rebuttal. "And funny and gorgeous. You're kind and helpful and sincere. You can bring out the best in anybody."

Her eyes grew wide and I think she stopped breathing. That was it. My little lady didn't know how to react to compliments. She couldn't hear good things about herself. A moment later her breathing came back in full force as she worked herself into hyperventilation. She looked so lost and she reached out for me. I pulled her into my lap and just held onto her as she worked through whatever breakdown she was having. I felt so helpless but I know this small part was something she'd have to get through herself. I'd help her with the rest.

I had no idea what would trigger this reaction in her. Was it her past? I knew Bree's mom was a kind of a loser and I hated thinking of her mother that way but it seemed to be the truth. Was she just not used to hearing nice things? She never told me much about her life in that sort of context. I only ever heard how she survived, not about her interactions with others - _especially_ her mother. Maybe the whole concept was just new and foreign to her. I thought this might've been it and that made me sick.

After that point I never let her ignore a compliment and I made sure she heard them more often. She was a trooper and sometimes she could swallow down that panic and look me in the eyes and say thanks. Other times I would have to help her as that anxiety threatened to overwhelm her but she always got over it.

The following week she just looked worn out. I think she just needed a reprieve but there were still some things that she never told me. It was this day where she said something that almost made my head explode: "You know, you can just not say those things to me and we can detour the problem altogether."

I really had not seen that one coming. It just made me absolutely ripshit. Not at her, but at anyone who could ever drive my little lady to ever want to refuse something like that. To refuse other people admiring everything that was so great about her.

"What! Not only is that not healthy, it's bullshit. You are all those things and I won't let you not believe them. It would be a lie." I paced back and forth across my kitchen trying to figure this out because shit just got a lot more complicated than it already was.

"But we could just avoid the whole situation if you never mentioned it! It's not lying," she rebutted, "You said it once. Okay, I know. We don't have to talk about it again!"

What? What! What the hell kind of logic was this, "Are you crazy? It would be a lie of omission and I'm not going stop saying nice things to you because you're not used to it. I think hearing them more often is good for you."

It was like she was trapped in this mental bubble and anything outside it - anything outside that safety zone - that touched her would just ruin her. "I can't let you sit in the cage you've built around yourself. There'll always be that part of you stuck there."

"I'm not stuck anywhere!" she yelled throwing her hands in the air. "Can't we just pretend I'm allergic? It's like peanuts. You wouldn't force feed me peanuts if I was allergic would you? Prolonged exposure doesn't help in all cases, Jacob."

What the hell kind of analogy was that? She wasn't allergic. She was afraid. A fear of peanuts is not rational; it would require help. She wanted to close off that avenue of communication. No, in the short run it wasn't much but there would always be those certain things I could never say to her without making her upset. It broke my heart to see her the way she was and I wanted to help her.

I sat in a chair at the kitchen table and ran my hands down my face trying to think of a way to verbalize. "Bree," I said measuredly, "I feel like if we close that off it will just get worse and over time there will be less I can say to you without making you uncomfortable. I don't want to make you uncomfortable but…" and I had to stop. I had important shit to say. Man did I have important shit I wanted to say but telling her she was smart sent into hysterics. Anything stronger than that and I was afraid I'd just break her.

"What?" She asked quietly as she hopped onto the edge of the table. Her whole tone and body language had changed. She wasn't so defensive now - which made me feel slightly better. But how was I going to do this?

This was such a clusterfuck I had no idea where to go. I was so afraid of her running away from me; I really couldn't handle it but I had to tell her. And it was damn important. Not telling her felt wrong, like a lie, or like I was keeping things from her. So I decided I would give her the truth, in small pieces so the impact wasn't so bad until I couldn't fragment it anymore and I just had to give her the last of it. It was better than blindsiding her.

"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable but," I said evenly, "I think it will come to a point where I could have something important to say. Either I could tell you and you react horribly or I keep my mouth shut and you'd just never know. What are we supposed to do then?"

"Well," she responded in a tone to match my own, "if it's important, I'll survive. I just think the constancy of practice is more pain than it's worth."

I stood up and continued my old path across the kitchen. I came to stand in front of her, putting one hand on each side of her. "Bree, I need to know that if something is on my mind that I can say it or tell you about it without your running away from me. Because nothing scares me more than my making you run away."

She groaned in frustration, "Jacob," she said bracing the side of my face with her tiny frigid hands. "It's not you. It's not the thought. It's the words inside my brain." She was not getting this. I just needed to know I could talk and she wouldn't be heading for the hills. If we didn't have those lines of communication there was no telling how much worse things would get.

"What is it? What do you need to tell me?" she asked resigned.

I'd broken this down as far as I could. I couldn't give it to her in any smaller pieces. She never told me she wouldn't run but she asked me to speak my mind. I couldn't just keep this stuck inside me, I had to tell her. But I had no idea what would happen after those words passed my mouth. I figured it could go one of two ways. Number one: she'd tweak out a little out of natural habit but be okay in the end. Door number two: I would never see her again. But in all honestly the prospect of being with her and her never knowing was probably worse than having her run. So I just said screw it. Because she needed to know, "I love you."

I just laid it all out there. Since she'd come home I'd been trying to deal with this newness. It was like knowing her all over again. When she kissed me that day, it helped a lot because I now knew where she was at. But it was worse because now I had to figure out where I was.

I knew I never wanted her to leave again. I knew I wanted to keep her safe. I wanted her to be happy and watching her drained little body those first days she was back just made me want to hold on to her and shelter her from the world just to make sure no one dragged her any further down. Being away from her made me either anxious or excited because I was just so jacked about seeing her again.

She was my best friend and - short of this moment right here and a few specific compliments - I knew I could tell her anything, any problem, and she'd never tell a soul. Her insight often made me laugh and realize where I was going wrong or just being stupid. She was so patient and I didn't know how she put up with the odd stares from the packs for the first week or so.

And there's no way I could deny that that kiss lit my world. She took me by surprise and it was pretty freaking amazing. She just took the bull by the horns and dove right in. The feel of her small mouth and cold little body pressed right against mine felt so natural. Then I realized it felt more than natural - it felt damn good. So good that I didn't care much about asking for a little more leeway from her slender little mouth. Short of being opposed the girl actually teased me.

If I piled all those experiences together, I knew that my little lady meant a hell of a lot to me. More than just about anyone I knew. Somewhere in between her meatloaf, my wrestling her to the ground, trig homework, funny stories, holding her hand and evading death by her brothers I fell in love with her. Except I didn't piece it all together until today, when I was presented with the possibility of not being able to say it.

Because if she was my friend, that would've been okay. We would've reached that strange half-truce and it would have been over; I wouldn't have complimented her in a way to make her feel uncomfortable. We would have gone on like normal. But I loved Bree, I was in love with Bree - which thanks to Bella's semantics a year ago - I knew that phrasing made all the difference in the world. And I got it now, because I couldn't let my little lady live the rest of her life with blinders on.

For a while though, I didn't think I would get the chance. She just stared at me, digesting what I'd thrown at her. Then she started shaking her head. And I didn't know what that meant, so I began shaking my head too. "Why are you shaking your head?"

"You don't love me, Jacob," she said almost silently pulling her hands from my face and curling into a little ball on my kitchen table.

"What?" I asked. That was not a reaction I was prepared for. I was prepared for acceptance, refusal and running. I was not ready for her to argue my own feelings. And it makes me sick to even think about it, but for a moment a small part of me believed her. Then I snapped back and realized whatever was going on inside her head, it was not what was coming out. It was a mask and a way for her to deal with the situation - it was her process.

"You can't love me Jacob. Just look at me. No, I'm not good for you," she half sobbed at me. So this was it? She didn't think she was good? How she could make herself believe that was beyond me. She'd done me and her own family so much good since she'd arrived.

"See, I knew this would happen," I muttered standing upright. Because i kind of did. I couldn't tell her she was gorgeous, of course love wouldn't go down so well. I didn't know if she returned the sentiment or not; all I knew was that she was backing out without an answer. She initially took me by surprise but now i knew what was happening: she was opting out. And that was weak; I hated that shit, because my little lady was stronger than that. She wasn't physically running. Just emotionally. I couldn't let her run forever.

Then I could see the physical manifestations of her anxiety. Her eyes started flashing around, looking for an exit. But I couldn't let her go. I would have been over the moon if she said it back - but that wasn't the point right now. The point was that she was running and if she didn't face this monster it was going to get her someday. Before she could get to the front door I was around the table and standing in front of it.

"Jake," she tried in her best calm-Bree voice, "let me out." and I was sorely tempted to because she was hysterical now. She didn't cry anymore but her breathing was ragged and uneven and she was shaking. She was having a panic attack.

"No," i said trying to maintain my cool. This was going be tough because usually I'd just hold her close and she would ride the anxiety out, fight it back. But I was the cause of it this time, so I was fairly certain any move I made towards her would just exacerbate the issue.

Her hand grazed my arm as she reached for the door. She flinched back.

"Let me out," she growled with a feral snap in her throat. My little lady was getting mean.

"No," I said firmly, "I will not let you run away from this. Regardless of your feelings for me you can't keep running forever!"

Then she let out the most godawful scream, "Jacob!" Truth be told it wasn't even that loud; no one outside the house would have heard it. But the sheer desperation in her voice was sickening. I'd wanted her to show me what was going on in her head and I think she just gave it to me. She was scared. I knew keeping her here was just making all this shit worse. I wanted so much to help but I think I was just fucking it all up.

"If you can honestly leave here, then go," I told her stepping aside. "I'm not stopping you. But just know that one day your legs are going to give out."

For a long time she just stood there. I could tell she wanted to run. But something kept her still and just as I was about to move towards her or say something, she fell into a crumpled heap on my living room floor. It was a moment before I realized she'd just sat down and not collapsed. I just nodded my head back against the door and slid down towards the floor. I wanted so much to go to her. She sat there, with her head between her knees, clutching all that beautiful mahogany hair in her alabaster fingers. My little lady was broken. And I did that to her.

"I'm no good for you Jacob. I'm going to hell," she said after a few quiet minutes.

"That's a crock of shit and you know it. Why would you ever think you're going to hell? You are not bad, Bree." I told her because she needed to hear it.

"Jacob," She sobbed from her little lump, "you have to understand. I love you too – I truly do - but that's exactly the problem. You could do so much better. If I had these feelings for you that's fine, I can ignore them but for you to love me just pulls you into my mess." Then she placed a had over her chest, "there's nothing in here, Jacob. Nothing to keep me from snapping and killing anyone I know. Believe me, no god wants much to do with me."

So much went crashing through my brain at that moment. First was: she loved me; she felt it back and I didn't even know what to do with myself.

Then I felt angry and defeated because she just admitted to keeping that kind of stuff from me. She had been bottling things up since she got back and it was just eating her from the inside out. That was it. That is what she'd been holding back. She thought she was damned.

I took a minute to even out and I inched toward her. I thought I may be able to get near her - maybe even touch her. Because it always helped before, and she needed it.

"Bree, from what I know most interpretations of god are willing to forgive if you're sorry. You've turned over a completely new leaf. Made a whole new life for yourself. That's quite a jump."

"You were a Christian, right?" I'd always gotten the impression that Christians thought their god be a pretty nice guy. The way their stories read he was kinda willing to forgive anyone.

"There's a story in your Bible about a man that wanted to go to heaven. Jesus told him to leave all his possessions and follow him. The man couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to leave his old life. You left everything behind Bree. And Carlisle is hardly Jesus, but I don't deny that he's probably got the right idea about your kind. You live the best you can with what you have."

I was within a few feet of her now and I disentangled one of her hands from her sleek locks. I didn't say or do anything for a moment making sure this was okay. She didn't pull away, in fact the rise and fall of her back began to calm with her breathing.

"Bree. I love you. And I will be here until the day I die. I don't want to fix you – but I can't handle you not knowing how amazing you are. I don't want you ignoring anything. I want to know what's on your mind – no matter what it is. We all have shit we need to work through but it's easier together. You are a beautiful disaster and I wouldn't have you any other way." it was ridiculous if she didn't know how screwed up everyone around her was. Look at us: vampires, werewolves, imprinting, the alien abilities, the humans we dragged into it, the eons of time think about all of it. None of us were whole.

She had no adverse reaction, she just turned her head to the side and peeked her big eyes out at me from between the hair she had everywhere. I moved a little closer so she was between my legs and I wrapped my arms around her tiny frame. And it was just like old times: she latched onto me like it was all she had left. I don't think she was reining panic in like she used to. Now it was like she was letting something out.

"You talk about love like it's a disease," I told her, "but hearing you say that was still the best thing I've ever heard. Even in the middle of your self-deprecating tirade."

I felt her smile against my neck, "It is a disease. You are not of sound mind – that I know."

There would not be anymore of that. I reached down to hold her beautiful face in my hands. She looked back up at me with doleful eyes, "I am completely lucid. I love you and you have never looked more gorgeous."

Her eyes fluttered gently closed, "I love you too, Jake." my little lady had had enough for one day.

That had been the last time I saw her. It was now a full week later and I was about ready to just march down to her house and bang on the door just to see her face when Carlisle had called to tell me that he was done going over things with Sam - that I could stop by any time. Treaty negotiations. And there was no reason I couldn't see Bree on the way. Most of the Cullens seemed to look at me with disdain, at least within the context of her. I think I was doing all right: I'm pretty sure only Emmett, Jasper and Rosalie hated me at this point. And Rose didn't count because she hated everyone.

So I finished my apple as I crossed town, tossed the core in the woods and sprinted into the trees. I had a treaty to finalize.


	5. TR 28 CPOV

"What was _that_?" Carlisle asked as his eyes bugged. He turned his thumb towards the closed door and the kitchen he, Esme and Bree had just vacated.

"What, dear?" Esme replied. She knew what he was getting at, but he seemed genuinely surprised so she decided to play coy and allow a few minutes for him to process.

He paced around the room slowly, thinking to himself and mumbling while Esme perched on the edge of his desk. She simply watched. He had been in treaty negotiations with Jacob and as they rejoined the two women in the kitchen, Jacob kissed his daughter. Just a small, chaste peck on the head but still. It was out of character for him. And Bree had been almost... Embarassed for a moment.

Carlisle was clearly missing something.

He finally slowed and his gaze rose from the carpet to his wife. "How long have you known?" he asked quietly.

Esme smiled that knowing smile. Because she cared so deeply for her family, she was highly attuned to them each. To Edward's mood swings, to Rosalie's highs and lows, to Jasper's breaking points. She could detect slight changes in them - sometimes even before they did.

"Probably longer than they have," she replied with a grin. Carlisle looked shocked. He was also highly intelligent but he occasionally got absorbed in the clinical observations of humans that he missed the subtle nuances of vampiric changes.

He could find the alterations and differences in human dispositions almost like a sixth sense; he'd had the same ease with Bella as a human. But the transition was occasionally rough. After being as absorbed in his work he would forget that he lived in a house full of very old, very immortal beings. Sometimes he'd forget to flip the switch between 'human' and 'vampire'.

"Really?" he asked astonished. "Have I—" he shrugged, apparently at a loss "—been asleep at the wheel?"

"No," Esme shook her curly waves. "I don't think _they_ had figured it out until recently."

"How long?" he asked quietly, peering out the window behind her.

"As far as I can tell? The wedding."

He glanced at her in awe, "Edward and Bella's? That was near a year ago."

She nodded with a small smile, "I know."

"You should've seen the way they watched each other," she continued. "It was near comical." Carlisle was flabbergasted. He had been at that wedding. Had danced with his daughter. How had he not caught onto this, after all these months.

"What else am I missing? There has to be more," he shrugged.

Esme thought over recent history, "That time you told her Jake was sick? Did you see her face? I'm pretty sure they were arguing at the time. That snapped her right out of it."

As Esme spoke Carlisle thought over her words and the events about which they described. Events he'd been there for. And now that she put them in the correct perspective, he was astounded at how he'd missed it all.

"After Bree came back from Italy," Carlisle's eyes snapped up to Esme's despite the fact that she'd spoken even more softly.

That was a sore spot for many and for Carlisle especially. He had no illusions about his colleagues in Italy. Aro, Marcus and Caius were what they were. But Carlisle could not forgive them for taking a member of his own family. One of his own children. That black event had severed any remaining amiable ties Carlisle held with the three brothers. It was something he could not forgive.

He had spent so much of those interceding five months trying get his daughter returned to him. He knew the life she came from - all the Cullens did. A person would have to be half-crazy to think the girl would ever want to return to that.

Eventually, he had to take a leave of absence from the hospital, his efforts were so engrossing. He communicated with Aro, Marcus and Caius individually on numerous occasions. He even once made a trip to Volterra. He had never had so hard of a time trying to quell his anger. However his logic won out and he know a spat or fight would not be the best diplomatic act. In his time there, he hadn't even been allowed to see her. Felix had shuttled him directly out of the castle and back to the airport once the meeting had closed.

His last call had been placed following Bella's transformation. He had sat with her and Edward as they both dealt with the venom poisoning her body. After all was said and done, he left the two to explore the newness of an immortal Bella.

Bella had been pushing for an earlier and earlier date for her change. She was well aware that her shift to the immortal world was contingent on her sister's return. When the pain had subsided and she was able to move freely again, she gave Carlisle a long and significant look. He nodded as he left the two.

That had been his last call to Italy. "Well, I suppose you can have her back," Aro drawled. "She won't be of much use to us, anyways."

"I'm sorry?" Carlisle replied, not quite understanding Aro's meaning.

"Well you see, she's too attached to your coven. I'll never be able to put her to practical use in battle."

"Aro," he grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I already told you: she was born on a battlefield and I'm fairly certain she'd give you a glimpse at a full breakdown if you put her back in the line of action."

"Oh, I'm aware," Aro responded quickly. "But I simply don't have any use for one that cannot give me her alleigance. She's been worse than the others. She's almost completely non-responsive."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's a shell. She doesn't even eat." Aro sounded rather astounded with that final statement.

"What do you mean 'she doesn't even eat'?" Carlisle's neck snapped up in shock.

"I mean she has not once eaten since she's been here. Demetri tells me he believes she's sneaking out. But her eyes continue to fade to your sickly shade, so I'm assuming she's not finding humans but sticking to your meager dietary choices."

This was all fascinating information but it had not been the reason for Carlisle's call. He redirected himself, "Well your conditions have been met. I do not know how to sway you further. All I can say is my family is very much anticipating having its last member return to them."

The sound of Esme's voice tore him from his reminiscing. "Well," she began, "I spoke with Jasper when he and Alice and Jacob returned from the airport. He said Jacob practically mauled her. The anticipation and pure relief he felt from the two them was unreal. He really couldn't believe it, Carlisle. Imagine Jasper, at a loss for words?" she uttered a small chuckle.

"What about Bella?" Carlisle asked as he came to sit next to his wife. Bella and Jacob's relationship had hardly been a private one. And at the time Bella had not been one for making choices. Carlisle felt for the young boy, but there was little he could do.

"Honestly, I think Bree helped him," she glanced up at Carlisle.

"Really?"

"Really. Bella certainly knows it. I think Bree was a good friend and companion for him. Someone who wasn't one of his brothers - forced to share his mind. She was someone he could open up to on his own."

Carlisle processed all of this newfound information. "Now what do we do?"

Esme laughed her silvery tone, "We don't do anyhting, Carlisle. They're both old enough to make these sorts of decisions on their own. We just watch and help where and when it's needed or wanted."

"How do you think that's going to work out though?" Carlisle quirked a brow at Esme. "We know they're vastly different from a physical standpoint. Their chemical makeup is something so rare - I doubt this kind of match has ever been seen before."

Esme shrugged, "I don't think they're unaware of that fact. But Bree is the female and the vampire in this situation. I think the most they have to worry about is her venom in his system."

"What about everything else? Their aging differences, body mechanics, all of it." Carlisle could think of endless possibilities. He did not wish them apart, but the pragmatic part of his brain found many road blocks.

"Look, Carlisle?" Esme stood and braced her arms on his shoulders. "They're very different, you're right. But nothing between either of our species has ever been easy. Have a little faith in them. They'll figure it out."


	6. TANEC Outtake 1

**THE ANTICLIMACTIC NON-IMPRINTMENT OF EMBRY CALL — Outtake #1**

**I have lots of secondary character feels regarding this story and no desire to write a sequel. Expect lots of random shooters from the likes of anyone and everyone. They may be arbitrary or conflicting. Make of them what you will. **

* * *

For reasons unbeknownst to Liz, Paul had a fantastic bathroom. His place was small. The bedroom and the kitchen were really the only true rooms. And the bathroom. Liz thought that whomever he rented the place from might've tried to make up for lack of space with a decent place to wash up.

Liz had gone from a college dorm – with nothing more than a sink, a toilet, and a stall shower – to an apartment with similar accommodations.

The first time she'd been to Paul's place she was amazed. Mostly, because the bathroom didn't match the rest of the small two-room house. It was small, simply-made and obviously well-cared for. Liz – like Jezzie – came from her own brand of hovering around the poverty line in Detroit, and had zero issue with the place. The size proved the Paul wasn't making bank working in dry dock but he took pride in what his pay could afford.

The porch's wood planks were bleached from salt and sun and were well worn, but even and some newly nailed into place. Inside, the walls were a bare clean, crisp white. The bed was made neatly, and the linoleum floor and laminate counter tops were spotless. It was sparse, but well-loved and kept. It had character.

But Liz opened the door to the bathroom to wash her hands one day, and she stopped short. There was tile flooring. And sink with two feet of counter space on each side. There was a huge mirror and particular care to lighting. And an old claw-footed tub in the corner where the shower hook up came from the wall.

So when Liz came into town for his cousin's wedding, she told him she would be getting ready at his place. Because his bathroom kicked ass.

"Goddamn right it does. I don't do shit half-assed," he replied automatically.

Liz just quirked a brow. "What?"

"If I'm gonna rebuild a bathroom," he explained, "I'm not building a shitty one."

"You _built_ that?" she asked in wonder.

"Don't sound so surprised," Paul rolled his eyes. "When I moved in the thing wasn't even up to code. I got the landlord to knock some money off the rent, if I agreed to finish the bathroom."

"Wow," Liz nodded in appreciation. "You're good."

"I spend a lot of time getting fucking filthy," he reminded her. Sure, she knew about working with the ships, but there were also the hours of patrolling in the rain and mud. "When I come home, I want a decent bathroom."

"A girl can respect that," Liz smiled.

So when Liz came into town, she stayed at Jezzie's – because Liz wasn't quite ready to overload Paul's system by moving into his place for a week – but arrived bright and early the day of the his cousin's wedding. She had warned him she'd be over early. She had warned him she would be using his bathroom to get ready. He didn't seem to care. But when she knocked on his door at 8AM, he swung the door open in a bleary-eyed haze. He'd clearly just gotten up: his hair was everywhere, and the pattern of the crinkled bedsheets was still fading from the side of his face and his torso. He looked at her with a slight degree of confusion over his cup of coffee.

"You need three hours to get ready?" he asked, checking the clock. "We're not leaving until, like, eleven."

"Oh, I know," Liz replied dropping her bag on the floor just inside the door. "But Al's gone fishing for the season, and Jezzie's home for Christmas break so her and Embry are being sickeningly cute and it's just too early for that shit."

"Assholes," Paul agreed with a grin at his brother's expense. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Liz's forehead and she snagged his coffee cup from his hands while he was distracted.

"At least they're not as weird as Quil and Veronica," Paul told her as she took a sip. It was entirely to Paul's credit that Liz had gotten used to black coffee.

"They _are_ weird," Liz smiled good-naturedly.

"You're freezing," Paul noted as his hands overlapped hers in his attempt to retrieve his coffee. "You know I turned the heat up because I knew you were coming over."

"You mean you turned the heat _on?"_ Liz laughed. "Paul, I have never seen you touch the thermostat."

"I'm always hot," he shrugged smiling at his own joke.

"That's what she said," Liz replied with a well aimed poke to his chest.

"I'm really glad Seth's sense of humor is rubbing off on you," Paul said dryly. "Have I mentioned that?" He retreated to the kitchen and Liz ambled after him.

"It's not _my_ fault he's over Jezzie's more often than Embry is. Between Seth, Embry, and Collin they could all start racking up frequent flyer miles. But give me an ounce of credit of having my own special brand of humor."

"Oh, you get more than an ounce," he laughed handing her her own cup of coffee. "Let me take a quick shower and the bathroom's all yours."

He held her cold hands between his own and he placed a kiss on her freezing nose, trying to moderate her temperature with his own. "Turn the heat up if you like. I'll survive."

"Okay," she grinned in appreciation. "Go tame that mane," she ruffled his hair.

While Paul spent a grand total of eleven minutes in the bathroom, Liz pulled her dress out of her bag and hung it over the doorway to prevent wrinkling, and helped herself to a bowl of cereal while listening to the weather report on the radio.

"You mind if I wear heels?" Liz asked after a bite of Cheerios, when Paul ambled back into the kitchen with a towel over his shoulders.

"When have I ever cared what you wear?" he asked as he pulled the OJ from the fridge and leaned against the counter where she sat. "I mean… I like looking at you – don't get me wrong – but I'm hardly qualified to give fashion advice."

She shrugged. "I'll be taller than you," she explained.

"Hm…" he hummed in thought before fishing around in the pockets of his sweatpants.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for a fuck to give. And there's not a one to be found. Wear whatever makes you happy."

Liz smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she hopped off the counter and made for the bathroom.

Paul didn't make a habit of smiling. Smiling was for the weak, but Liz just so happened to unearth that tendency in him more frequently.

* * *

Apparently the bathroom wasn't _quite _finished yet. There was no fan, so Liz had to prop the door halfway open to let the steam out after her shower.

She sat on the spacious countertop with her makeup spread before her in a bra and underwear. She had the luxury of doing hair and makeup before getting dressed since her dress didn't have to go over her head.

The house had warmed up substantially, and the shower had put some heat back into her bones. She hummed absently as she fingered lightly through her few compacts of bronzer. She was halfway through her regimen, her legs crossed as she watched her face intently in the mirror when the light changed and shadow came from the doorway. She refocused her gaze in the mirror – her hand paused at her eye with the shadow brush in her hand.

She grinned at Paul's reflection in the mirror as he silently observed her. She finished her eyes and glanced down as she twisted the tube of lipstick. "Why are you watching me, you goof?"

"I dunno," Paul admitted quietly.

Liz rolled her eyes and continued where she left off. Paul still watched, but it didn't bother her. He wasn't staring – and Paul was very good at staring – he was just observing. Instead of feeling uncomfortable or invasive, it felt very personal.

Liz worked on the final touches when a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and a head appeared at her shoulder.

"Thanks for coming with me today," Paul muttered. "I appreciate it. Weddings suck without someone to hang out with and I haven't seen half my family since high school."

"You're welcome," Liz replied. "Most chicks dig weddings. The people watching is always fun. And you are a pretty good dancer."

"Damn straight, I am. Who do you think taught Sam to dance before his wedding?" There was a pause of silence, as Paul just watched Liz intently through the mirror. She could tell he was deciding whether or not he wanted to speak and just how exactly he wanted to say it. Liz had learned a while back that most of Paul's pauses were so induced. Generally, it meant he was trying not to sound like an asshole. According to Leah and Rachel, he'd developed quite an extraordinary level of tact over the years.

So Liz just waited. She was patient. "You're really gorgeous…" he told her reflection.

"Thank you," Liz replied as Paul landed a kiss just beneath her ear.

"And I love you," he finished.

Liz's eyes popped open with _that_ one. She knew Paul cared about her. The fact that he let her into his overheated apartment at 8AM on a Saturday made that plainly obvious to her. She knew. But Paul was more about acts than words. He was a physical being always more comfortable with doing and touching than saying and speaking. So this was a big deal.

Liz spun around on the counter, now staring at Paul's face instead of just his reflection. "I love you too," she insisted as the smile broke over her face.

Paul's shoulders fell with obvious relief. "Good. Because otherwise this wedding would've just gotten a lot more awkward."


	7. TANEC Outtake 2

**THE ANTICLIMACTIC NON-IMPRINTMENT OF EMBRY CALL – Outtake #2  
**

**Random brainwave of inspiration is random. Remember, I don't consider any of these little shooters to necessarily be canon (as will be evidenced when I post some excerpts of Jezzie turning into a werewolf after the final battle), but mostly they are just ideas that pop into my noggin'.**

* * *

"I have to tell him, Leah."

"Probably a good idea. You know he's gonna wanna come home, though, right?"

"I know. I think I can probably talk him out of it," Jezzie decided.

"Do you want me to Alpha whammy him?"

"No, that would be mean. He'd hate me if I had you order him to stay in Korea."

"He's only been gone for a few weeks, Jezzie…"

"Exactly," she emphasized. "And he's got three months left. Plus debriefing for corporate in San Francisco when he's done? That's at least four months. If he bails now… no, he'd risk his job. That'd be awful and totally unnecessary."

"Well, we all know Embry's not exactly light on the melodrama and blowing things out of proportion. So, you know all this going in and you're still going to tell him?"

"Yes! I can't _lie_ to him. Not about this. You were just egging me into telling him and now you're angling the other way?"

"Just playing devil's advocate," Leah raised her hands in surrender.

Jezzie sighed and shook her head. "I'm calling him," she announced while looking at the phone clutched in her hand.

Leah seemed to understand implicitly that this was something Jezzie needed a friend for and didn't move, but only stayed seated on the bed. She flicked casually through a magazine as Jezzie listened to ring after ring.

Embry had been gone for three weeks – twenty days, to be exact – and he was scheduled to be gone until just before the holidays. Time apart wasn't exactly a new concept for Jezzie and Embry, in fact it was probably the norm. The pair spent at least a quarter of the year apart. Jezzie consulting or going to conferences, and Embry being a critical unit in the Pacific-Asian division of a firm that was seeing a lot of expansion. Jezzie had also spent her med school years on the East Coast – only returning to Seattle for her residency.

Ten years together and Jezzie and Embry were used to the way life pulled and pushed them in different directions. The time apart hadn't been the problem… until Jezzie started feeling sick. Not flu sick, not MS sick, not any kind of sick she was at all used to.

"Is this even a tolerable hour in Korea?" Leah asked offhand.

"Well, yeah," Jezzie rolled her eyes. "Why do you think I called you over _now?_ Us humans keep normal sleep schedules, Leah. We don't all thrive on third-shift patrols of La Push."

Leah shrugged and continued to browse her magazine.

Jezzie growled slightly as the phone continued to ring. "Embry," she muttered to herself. "Pick up your phone…"

"Hel-lo," replied the mechanical autobot, "You've reached–"

Jezzie snapped the phone shut before it had the chance to complete the prompt and go to voicemail. "No dice?" Leah asked.

"No dice," Jezzie confirmed. "This sucks… every time I pick up the phone my heart starts beating a mile a minute because I'm nervous and then when nothing happens I– ah!"

_Ring!_

Jezzie's train of thought derailed as she shouted and jumped at the phone's harsh ringtone. Her motion caused the phone to fall from her lap and to the floor.

_Ring!_

"Gah!" she leapt off the bed and scrambled to reach under the bed to grab the phone. Leah watched as the girl retrieved the device, sat on the ground, took a deep breath, and opened the phone. "Embry?"

"Hi, Jez!" Leah could hear Embry over the sound of urban rustling in the background. "Sorry, I missed you, I just got back in the building. What's up?"

"Embry do you have some time to talk? Did I catch you in the middle of anything?" Jezzie twirled the end of the quilt at the edge of the bed incessantly between her fingers and was on the verge of chewing her lip to a pulp.

"No, no," Embry insisted and Leah heard the sound of keys as the din in the background of the call lessened. "I'm good. Shoot."

"Embry?"

"Jezzie?"

"Embry, we're having a baby."

Leah heard the distinct sound of metal – keys? – hitting the ground and nothing else. Silence.

"Embry?" Jezzie questioned. Her hearing was not nearly as heightened and Leah was sure all the girl was met with was silence. However she seemed to figure it out quickly enough. "Embry, breathe!" she demanded.

Leah stifled a laugh when she heard the sound of Embry's audible exhale. "We're… you… me. Baby?"

"Yeah," Jezzie admitted weakly. When Leah looked down from the bed the girl had curled her knees up to her face and there were tears in her eyes. "I'm pregnant, Embry."

"I'm going to be a Dad?"

"Mhm."

"You're going to be a Mom?"

"Yes." Jezzie exhaled and relaxed slightly. So far so good, Leah figured. Embry was thus far taking this all rather well.

"That's fucking amazing… I'm coming home." _Never mind._

"No!" Jezzie's spine shot up to attention. "No, Embry don't. Please don't."

"You're pregnant and you want me to stay in South Korea?"

"I don't _want_ you to stay, but it's your job, Embry. I don't want to take out the trash tomorrow, but I'll do that anyways. You can't just leave. You just got there. I'm pregnant, I'm not dying."

"But–"

"Embry," Jezzie interrupted. "I've got plenty of help here. You know that. What are the odds of your being able to fly back home now and still keep your job?"

"About as good as the Mariners making the playoffs."

"Exactly," Jezzie affirmed. "Embry, you were so excited when you got this job and I know it's busy. But I know you love it and if you got fired just to watch me puke for three months I would never forgive myself. I would seriously regret making this phone call."

"And you think my coming home to your being several months pregnant would've been a better idea?" Embry asked in a mocking tone.

"No, but you'd still have a job."

"I can get another job."

"But there's nothing wrong with this one," Jezzie whined. "Embry, please… I… I want you stay, okay? I'm going to be all right and there will be plenty of action when you get back. Lots of back pain and swollen ankles and sleepless nights and irregular bowel movements. Really, you'll be back in time for all the good stuff."

"Jezzie, you are pregnant with our first child and you want me to just be cool with not being there for the next three months?"

"I'm not asking you to be cool with it," Jezzie sighed in exasperation. "I'm asking you not to do anything you'll regret. Look, I have vacation time coming up in the next month or two. I'll come out and visit, okay?"

"You and Liz were going to go visit Carla out in New York, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I'll spend a week in Seoul and a week in the big apple. I can meet Liz there. Can we compromise on that? Please?"

"I promise to stay as long as you keep me updated."

"Well, duh, Embry," Jezzie admitted. Like she was just going to not talk to him after this point until he got home?

"I want you to be honest, though, Jez. Don't spare my psyche, all right? I know you do that whenever you have an MS flare and we're apart. I get why, but don't pull that on me with this, okay? This is too important."

Jezzie grimaced. When they were apart she tended to wait until it was unavoidable to tell him her MS was flaring. She always felt bad making him feel guilty or worried. So she often downplayed and sugarcoated. If Embry was good at worrying, Jezzie was good at worrying about worrying.

"I promise," she said quietly. "I'll be honest, and you'll keep your job?"

"Sounds like a deal. Now tell Leah to stop giving you crazy ideas."

* * *

"You look the same," Embry said in disappointment.

"Good to see you too," Jezzie replied with a shove to her boyfriend's shoulder at the luggage corral in Incheon International Airport just outside of Seoul. "I'm only two months along, you goof. Do you think I'm just going to inflate like a balloon?"

Embry pulled Jezzie into a hug and was content to keep her there. "You smell like recycled air and coffee. It's good to have you back."

Jezzie smiled and Embry pulled her bag off the belt as they made for the exit.

"You don't think it looks any different?" Jezzie asked a half hour later standing in front of the full-length bathroom mirror. She would switch perspectives on her silhouette tipping and turning to see if the baby bump was discernible.

"I check everyday, so I don't notice the difference, but my pants are starting to feel tight." Embry smiled, dropping the bag on the bed and walked over to watch the small redhead wiggle and squirm and contort in front of the mirror. "I guess it's hard to tell with clothes on…" she tilted her head as she evaluated her reflection. She turned her head and smiled at Embry.

"The doctor can hear her heartbeat on the ultrasound," she confessed. "It's… it's something else."

Embry had gotten the pictures and the frantic screaming phone calls before and after every exciting doctor's appointment. Jezzie was thrilled and fascinated by the whole process. He'd also almost choked when Jezzie started using feminine pronouns. He hadn't missed anything. Apparently, she just 'had a feeling.'

He took a few steps, closing the distance between them, bending down to kiss Jezzie on the top of her head. She reached for his hand and tugged it towards her. She guided it with her own, slipping the pair carefully under her shirt until his hand rested against the skin at her abdomen.

"I can feel the difference," Embry told her matter-of-factly.

"You would," Jezzie rolled her eyes. "You notice everything."

"Wait… Oh my god," Embry gasped, and Jezzie felt his muscles tense. His eyes widened as he stared down at her.

"What?!"

"I can feel it!" his face broke into the widest grin she'd ever seen. "I can feel the heartbeat."

He dropped to his knees and put his ear to Jezzie's abdomen. He held her by the hips and she could see his mouth open in wonder as he stared off, focusing on the sound.

"She sounds amazing."

* * *

Embry had been back in the US for two weeks, and was scheduled to be back in his own zip code in one when Jezzie called him to tell her she wasn't feeling well.

"I think it's the MS," she admitted quietly. Embry had known that Jezzie was worried about a flare while she was pregnant but had thus far made it through unscathed. She was part of the way through her second trimester – almost the halfway point – when she'd called Embry in San Francisco.

"It's still a little early to tell. It could just be general muscle aches – I've put on some weight in the last week or so – but I don't know."

She'd sounded so tired and so defeated that Embry clearly didn't need to worry. Jezzie was doing enough on her own.

"You going to be all right until I get home next week?" he asked her.

"I'll be fine," she assured him with only a bit more conviction.

* * *

It was the MS.

Jezzie was half hobbled by her partial paralysis when she and his mom picked him up at the Port Angeles airport. She put on a good face, but Embry could tell she was exhausted and in plenty of pain. It was incredibly difficult for Embry or his wolf not to scoop the woman up and cart her from the aiport. It was much easier to discern her baby bump, now that she was four months on.

After Tiffany fussed over her son sufficiently, she left him and Jezzie alone on the sidewalk while she went to get the car.

"I went to the doctor," Jezzie said apropos of nothing but answering the question on the tip of Embry's tongue. "I've got the right meds to ride this thing out. It doesn't feel like it'll be too bad or too long. It usually gets worse more quickly if it's going to be a bad one."

She heaved a long-suffering sigh and continued to observe the pavement.

"What else is it, Jez?" Embry asked carefully. "What else is bothering you?"

Embry waited and Jezzie raised her eyes to stare into the middle distance, gathering herself. She swallowed and spoke as she watched the few cars trickling through the airport's main drop off point. Her hand went to the baby, moving gently and comfortably over a small area like it had become habit.

"What if she can feel what I feel, Embry? What if she's in pain too?"

"Jezzie–"

"What if she's sick like me?"

His hand found hers, and underneath he could feel a small pattering heartbeat and a gentle kick.

"She'll be amazing just like you."

* * *

**Inspired by this link (here's hoping it works!): peekabooga (period) tumblr (period) com/post/22318798225**


	8. TANEC Outtake 3

**THE ANTICLIMACTIC NON-IMPRINTMENT OF EMBRY CALL – Outtake #3**

**I don't know about you guys, but I think election day needed something that didn't take itself so seriously. This otherwise has no point.  
**

* * *

Quil could hear the tell-tale tromp of Veronica as she made her way up the front steps, finally home from work. There was a clunk of uncomfortable shoes being shed at the door, and he listened as she nudged the swinging kitchen door open.

"Hi dear," she mumbled giving his shoulder a kiss before sliding onto the countertop. She watched him as he worked on dinner. Quil was always home earlier than Veronica, so he took dinner duty. She made the lunches. Neither of them was anywhere near an acceptable level of lucidity in the morning to ever make breakfast.

"Whatever you're making it smells delicious," Veronica told him. Quil could hear the smile in her voice and sense her feet swinging beside him.

"When have I ever made you bad food?" he demanded to know.

"Well, you did do something weird with strawberry jam and mustard once."

"I was drunk!" Quil retorted. "Tequila makes me do weird things!"

"The kitchen smelled for a week, Quil," Veronica reminded him mattery of factly. "All probably wouldn't been fine if you didn't put it on the stove."

He stuck a very mature tongue out at her and she watched him work. "I still don't know you manage to do that without cutting a finger off. I can barely manage and I'm fully sighted."

"That's why you make the sandwiches," Quil smirked. "Trust me when I say you have more spatial awareness than you think. It gets better the more you rely on it. Remember I walked into furniture for months?"

Veronica laughed to herself after a moment. "Did you ever see that show – back when we were kids – about those cartoon kids that could manipulate elements? They were fighting some war and the kid that could control air was stuck in an iceberg for, like, a century."

"The Last Airbender?" Quil quirked a brow. "Anna used to make sure she was over a friends house in Forks every week to watch the new episode because no one here had cable."

"That's the one!" Veronica snapped her fingers. "I distinctly remember that they had someone in their gang who couldn't see. And I remember she got around just by, like, feeling the earth's vibrations in her feet. Toph! That was her name! You remind me of her."

"Thanks, but I'm not _that_ good," Quil laughed. "So, why were you so late today? It's darker than when you normally get home."

Veronica slid off the counter and went to the fridge, rummaging for a drink. "Oh, I had to go vote and the lines at poll stations during rush hour are ridiculous."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot today was election day…" Quil mused. Then, he heard Veronica gasp and the sound of a dropped can. "Ronnie?" Quil spun around, but he couldn't sense a heightened heart rate or pulse.

"_What do you mean you forgot today was election day?!"_ Veronica shouted.

"Okay," Quil raised his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Please stay calm. I forgot that today was election day."

"What do you _mean_ you forgot, Quil!" she shrieked. "This isn't some little rinky dink town board election. This is a national election! There are presidents to be elected, ballot questions to be answered. Quil, it's your responsibility to vote!"

"I am sorry," Quil began slowly. "I forgot. We can have an election day date next go around, all right?"

"No, not all right," she scoffed, and he could hear her march out of the room as she continued to talk. "You are registered, right?"

"Yes," Quil tried not to be offended. "They have a massive voter registration campaign for all outgoing seniors at QTS. I was back for the last week of classes so they'd graduate me. Jake filled the form out. That was a long ass time ago. For all I know he enrolled me in the Communist party."

"Okay, that's a start," she muttered, and he heard her stumble as she slipped her sneakers on. "Put your shoes on and turn off the stove. We're driving you to your polling station."

"Ronnie?" Quil insisted as she made her way back to the kitchen. "I don't even know what is happening this election, who's running. I mean, I'm all for civic responsibility but voting is not intrinsically good. I'm not gonna vote ignorant."

"Of course not," she insisted. "I'm going to give you a crash course on the way. It's six thirty, it'll take about a half hour to get to your polling station. We'll be fine."

"Ronnie…"

"_Get in the car!"_

* * *

"Do you feel better?"

Quil was quite surprised by how quickly Veronica could drive and still give him an absolute run down of everything that had happened in every major candidates campaign for the last year. She detailed ballot questions, and platforms, and Quil was actually really impressed. Mostly because as passionate as she was about making sure he voted, he really couldn't tell which way she voted. She did give his face a shove when he got excited about the legalization of marijuana being on the ballot.

"Well, I bet Paul voted today. Blind people get pot, right?"

"_Medical_ marijuana is for cancer and glaucoma patients, Quil!"

She gave him pretty scathing review of everyone with a name on the ballot, but she seemed to be an equal opportunity doubter. By the time they'd gotten back home, he could hear her dragging her feet up the steps. She was exhausted.

"Mm," she mumbled as she slumped further into him and the couch. She'd resigned herself to the couch and her usual spot cuddled into Quil's side.

"All the civic activism got you tuckered out, real quick."

"I wanna stay up for the results," she mumbled into his shirt. Beneath the quilt, Quil's hands found a contented and warm place against Veronica's abdomen. His fingers had long grown familiar with the smooth and gentle contours of her shape. She relaxed back into his embrace. The touch was familiar, moving in learned patterns. They'd long moved from the curious and frenzied groping underneath clothes and blankets to the kind of contact that wanted nothing more than to touch.

"Whaddya see?" she asked with her eyes closed.

"No more red and blue states. It's all kinda purpley now. I think it's gonna be a long night."

* * *

**As an aside, WA state is now ALL mail-in voting. They don't do polling stations anymore. I just felt like I should let you all know that...**


	9. TANEC Outtake 4

**THE ANTICLIMACTIC NON-IMPRINTMENT OF EMBRY CALL – Outtake #4**

**"I'm just trying to remember that the world is a good place and that the number of hugs per gunshot victim is very, very high... Some people are terrible and broken, but humanity is good. I believe that." –Hank Green in re Sandy Hook Massacre**

**Trigger warning. No graphic violence, but some truly terrible history.**

* * *

"Leah, what's this word say?"

Leah glanced down from the pile of bills and receipts on the table to the small girl sprawled out on the floor with her book. Nessie had recently chosen a book from Embry's collection about the rise and fall of imperialism in the twentieth century.

Jacob and Leah allowed Nessie to read, more or less, without censoring what struck her fancy. However, every now and then she'd pick a book about a topic that she could intellectually understand, but lacked the maturity to process. Nessie was good at prodding her own confusion by asking lots of questions. Truth be told both Jacob and Leah preferred the girl learn the unpleasant and confusing aspects of the world through the written word and their explanations, before she was dumped lock and stock and barrel into the realities of it all.

Leah thought this particular book would raise a lot of Nessie's questions. "Lemme see," she smiled slightly, beckoning Nessie towards her. The young girl placed the book on the table, scattering a few receipts in the process, and climbed up into Leah's lap.

"That one," Nessie pointed. "It's come along a couple times but I don't know how to say it."

Leah knew exactly what Nessie was having a hard time pronouncing before the girl even signaled out a word on the page. The glossy black and white photos of emaciated prisoners behind barbed wire told her immediately.

"Holocaust," Leah told her. "The word is Holocaust."

"Oh…" Nessie nodded in acknowledgment. "Isn't that a little 'h' word, too?"

"Yes," Leah nodded. "When it's a little 'h' it means to destroy on a very large scale."

"This book talks about this man," Nessie flipped the page and pointed out a picture of the infamous dictator. "Mr. Hitler… he did the Holocaust?"

"Yes, he did," Leah nodded, and didn't offer more knowing that Nessie's own thought process was stirring up questions. If the girl asked in her own time, she was more likely to understand.

Nessie didn't speak for a few moments, but from the spot where Nessie's hand rested against Leah she felt the girl's preternatural gift flare to life.

Leah swallowed. "Use your words, Nessie."

"Why do people hurt each other like that, Leah?"

"I dunno, Nessie," Leah admitted. "Some people are broken, and they make bad choices. Sometimes those choices only affect a couple people, but when you're an important person you hurt a lot of people very easily."

"Mr. Hitler was important. He was in charge or Germany. He said he wanted to fix Germany." Nessie leaned back into Leah's form as she spoke, seeming to wither with the attempt at understanding.

"Yes, he did. A lot of people believed him. You read about WWI? Well, after that the German people were punished very harshly. People felt bad, and they elected Hitler because he said he could make Germany great again."

"But it says millions and millions of people died, and he took other people's countries? That's not being very good or great."

"No, it's definitely not," Leah agreed. "But he thought that taking more land would make Germany better. These people," she pointed to the picture of the concentration camp survivors, "were blamed for the bad times in Germany."

"That's not fair!" The small girl sat bolt upright and smacked her hand against the open face of the book.

"But sometimes we blame things on people even if it's not their fault, right?" Leah hedged. "Like when you and Claire fool around? You two point fingers at each other a lot. It's easy to blame someone else when we have problems, or when we're in trouble but it's not the right thing to do."

"And Mr. Hitler blamed all the Jewish people in Germany?"

"Mhm," Leah nodded. "And Roma – they're group of people that travel all over, they don't live in one place – and gay people, people with disabilities, and some of the soldiers from Russia that were caught. They were made to work in camps like this in terrible conditions. They grew sick and hungry. Many died. And all those millions you mentioned were killed, too. All kinds of people, young and old, men and women."

"That's stupid," Nessie replied petulantly. Nessie was young and like all children had a very black and white perspective of justice and right and wrong. However, most children her age were not reading up on the Holocaust. "Kim teaches this girl, Molly. She teaches her piano and sometimes I get to see her when I go with Kim. She's ten and she's Jewish. I asked because she was wearing a necklace once and it looked like a little star and I told her it was pretty and she told me what it stood for and that she wore it because was Jewish. She is very nice and so is her mom and her brother."

"I bet she is. Molly Beckermann's mom is a very nice lady. I've met her many times before… So what does this make you think, Nessie? What do you think of Mr. Hitler's idea?"

"It was stupid," she muttered bitterly.

"What else?"

"When bad stuff happens you shouldn't blame other people. Some times it can be your fault, but I guess sometimes bad things can probably also happen for no special reason. And if we're all people, then we need to treat each other the same like you and Daddy tell me all the time. You're s'posed to treat other people how you would want to be treated."

"And just because someone or something's different, doesn't mean it's bad, right?"

"Different isn't bad. People do bad things when they don't like other people 'cause they're different."

* * *

When Jacob came back from picking up Billy from Council the pair came into the kitchen to see Leah face-planted onto the household finances with a half-empty glass of ice tea in her hand.

"Leah?" Jacob asked.

"Think our budgeting skills have finally killed the poor girl," Billy mused, as Jacob quickly went to check on Nessie – who was steadfastly asleep on the living room floor while Toy Story played on the TV.

Leah glanced up over her forearm and towards the two men staring at her. "I had to explain the Holocaust to Nessie today," Leah said matter-of-factly as Jacob returned to the kitchen.

"You all," she signaled pointedly, "can explain human reproduction, when she finally gets a hold of Jezzie's textbooks or Brady's porn collection."


End file.
